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I almost laugh at that last one. *Hope you're happy.* Like this is about making him unhappy instead of about saving myself.

**Chase's Mother:** *You selfish, ungrateful girl. Do you have any idea what you've done?*

**Chase's Mother:** *We opened our home to you. We welcomed you into our family. And this is how you repay us?*

**Chase's Mother:** *Don't bother coming back. You're not welcome here.*

Good. I don't want to be welcome there.

But the tears are coming faster now, because even though I don't want to go back, even though I know leaving was the right choice, it still hurts.

It hurts that my father thinks I'm throwing my life away.

It hurts that Victoria uses my dead mother as a weapon.

It hurts that Chase doesn't even care enough to be actually upset.

It hurts that I'm twenty-five years old and this is the first real decision I've ever made for myself, and everyone I've ever known thinks I'm making a mistake.

I keep scrolling through the messages, reading each one even though they're destroying me, because I need to know. I need to see exactly how bad it is.

**Wedding Planner:** *Miss Whitfield, we need to discuss the cancellation fees. Please call me as soon as possible.*

**Unknown Number:** *Bree, it's your cousin Sarah. Everyone's worried about you. Please just let us know you're okay.*

**Unknown Number:** *You fucking bitch. You humiliated my best friend. I hope you rot.*

That last one makes me flinch.

I don't even know who sent it. Probably one of Chase's groomsmen. Probably someone I smiled at during wedding planning and pretended to like because that's what I was supposed to do.

My vision is blurring now, tears streaming down my face faster than I can wipe them away. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe, and there's a voice in the back of my head, Victoria's voice, telling me I deserve this. That I'm selfish, and I've ruined everything.

I open another message.

**Father:** *I've given you 24 hours to come to your senses. If you're not back by tomorrow morning, don't bother coming back at all. You'll be cut off. No money, no family, nothing. This is your choice.*

The phone slips from my hands and falls onto the bed.

Cut off.

He's going to cut me off.

I knew it was coming. I knew the second I walked out that door that there would be consequences. But seeing it written out like that, cold and absolute, makes it real in a way it wasn't before.

If I don't go back, I have nothing.

No family. No safety net. No one to call if things go wrong. Just me. Alone. In a town I don't know anyone and a job I haven't even started yet.

I curl up on the bed, still wearing Angel's cut, and let myself cry. Big, ugly sobs that make my whole body shake. The kind of crying I haven't let myself do in years because Victoria always said it made me look weak and pathetic.

I cry for the mother I never knew.

I cry for the father who's choosing his business over his daughter.

I cry for the girl I was before, the one who thought maybe, just maybe, she could make everyone happy and still be okay.

And I cry because I'm terrified.